10th Round
The right hook is essential.
Tenth Round.
I enter Into the graphite
penciled in
battle of my wits
led by my muses
to a white square
ring bound.
An Eberhard veteran
of many other documented
conflicts scheduled
Fist clenched
around a
sharpened spear
lead tipped
and ready to strike.
Staring down
my lifelong nemesis
a Rock 'em Sock 'em
mental blockhead
who has left me reeling
in so many
other untitled bouts
of split decisons.
He swings
with a strong left
leaving an
exclamation mark
on my chances
as my thoughts
are derailed
and desert me.
But I counter
with a pure write
Scrabbling furiously
over the dead space
between us
till he tumbles
much like a toddler's
first grasp of gravity.
Expired even
as I am inspired
Joyously I am hoisted
on the shouders
of success,
clutching my
latest prize.
A puga-list of
poetic pontifications
declaring me
the champion
of puns.
My punchline
direct and
to the point
is noted now
as a knockout!
© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III
